I swore to myself, and to anyone who would listen, I would never get a divorce. For years, I waited to 'meet the right person', to make sure that I was making the right choice. A good part of that was the issue I had (and still do!) with being wrong. I hate being wrong, especially on a major issue.
Well, I was wrong. And the sad part about it, is I ought to have known that before I got married.
In retrospect, I can see every point along the way where a little green man should have stood with a big sign warning me. There, where he wanted his mother to go shopping for my dress with me. And behind that tree, where he never like to 'play' much. And under the bench, where he insisted on a Catholic wedding.... despite the fact he hadn't been to church in years. And waaaaay off over there.. where he was always complaining about work, and never could quite manage to take time off.
But no, I couldn't be wrong. After all, I had made up my mind.
Maybe the problem is I didn't know what I wanted. Maybe I still don't. But at least now, I know more of what I don't want. And, while the learning curve was steep, there aren't any sudden sharp corners. The whole thing seems to be fizzling out, with no fireworks anywhere to be seen. I feel relieved... and yet oddly disappointed.